


Cellmates

by AJ_illustrated



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bad Influence!Andrew, Canon Compliant, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Incarcerated Varian (Disney), Varian is a troubled youth who really just needs a hug, and also a lecture on why treason is bad no matter how you try to justify it, beware of the easily distracted author who doesn't know how to sit down and finish a fic, in which case screw canon i'll do what i want, jailbreak, prison heists, redemption arc (sort of), slow-burn character development, unless something in the show proves me wrong, welcome to the angst parade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-01-13 16:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21179138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_illustrated/pseuds/AJ_illustrated
Summary: Varian lost the Battle of Old Corona and has been locked away in the castle dungeons... but at least he's got company.A fill-in-the-blank piece showcasing Varian's time spent in prison and his eventual alliance with the Separatists of Saporia.





	1. Ready As I'll Ever Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make my stance on this clear: King Frederic is a lying scoundrel who locked up a fourteen-year-old delinquent with a literal terrorist and that incites a spark of burning rage within me that few can comprehend. However, I did try to prevent my personal biases from interfering with the story too much. (but don't expect miracles)
> 
> This fic was inspired by my fascination with prison stories and my desperate need to see Varian and Andrew villainously interact.

The path from Old Corona to the palace dungeons was long and bumpy, and with the rubble from Varian’s automatons obstructing their path, the roads had gotten even worse. The wagon wheels, though sturdy enough, apparently weren’t built to absorb the shock, so Varian had to brace himself from falling over every time they hit a pothole or made a sharp turn. This was significantly more difficult to do while wearing handcuffs. 

He’d lost. Varian had _ lost. _

It wasn’t fair. Varian had planned for every contingency, every possible move Rapunzel could have made. And even when her hair hadn’t shattered the amber, his mech suit should have been more than enough to wipe out her and all her stupid, loyal friends. But no- _ apparently, _ Princess Sunshine could control the rocks _ with her mind_. How was he supposed to plan for something that shouldn't have even been possible??

Not like it mattered, anyway. Even the power of the Sundrop wasn’t enough to free his father.

Beside him, Ruddiger chittered mournfully, nuzzling his head against Varian’s chest. Varian smiled; at least Ruddiger had stayed by his side. He couldn’t imagine having gone through all of this alone.

A beam of moonlight shone through the prison wagon and a glimpse of pink caught Varian’s eye; was it..?

Varian set Ruddiger down beside him, rummaging through his apron pockets until he found a familiar pink orb. Varian’s breathing hitched; this was an opportunity. It wasn’t much, just a regular one of his goo bombs, but if he waited till just the right moment, he could–

The wagon came to an abrupt halt, jostling Varian to his side, fumbling the goo bomb for one soul-shuddering moment but managing to catch it in his outstretched fingers. He held it close to his chest, feeling the sudden panic begin to fade as the wagon’s latch was unlocked and the door opened.

The mustached guard who had originally hauled away from his automatons was now staring at him with a look of contempt, his jaw set in a hard line. “We’re here.”

Varian stood up, concealing the pink orb within his trembling fist as he stepped out into the cool night air, Ruddiger hopping onto his shoulders; he had one chance at this, just one chance...

“Hey!” shouted another guard, an auburn-haired one with a face full of freckles. “Stan, the kid’s got something!”

Varian felt his heart leap into his throat as the freckled guard began marching towards him; no, no, no, no, he wasn’t ready! He needed more time, he might not get another chance, this was his only shot–

Varian whipped around to face the mustached one (Stan, was it?) and kicked him in the shins as hard as he could. This seemed to do little more than throw the man off-balance, but that was all Varian needed. 

In the blink of an eye, the freckle-faced guard was stuck fast in a puddle of goo and a gaggle of guards had rushed to his aid. A rush of relieved satisfaction made Varian let out a small laugh; something was actually going right for a change. And he had always been pretty fast for his age, so now that the guards were distracted, all he had to do was slip away and run like a madman–

Strong hands grabbed Varian before he’d made it more than three steps- in seconds, at least five more guards had rushed to the scene, pointing their halberds directly at Varian’s chest, mere centimeters from piercing his flesh. 

“Nice try, kid,” said Stan with a glower, tightening his grip on Varian’s forearm. “But you’re not going anywhere. Now get moving.”

_ No, _ Varian thought, his mind racing in disorganized panic. No, there had to be something he could do, some other trick, or- or diversion, something that could give him the upper hand...

Stan shoved Varian back towards the doors leading to what could only be the palace dungeons, and after a minute, Varian realized there was no more point in resisting; this man was twice his size and easily three times his weight, plus there were two other guards at his flank and both of them were armed- the math said no.

Ruddiger chirped nervously, clinging tightly to Varian’s shirt collar as they trudged down the dimly lit hallways; even a raccoon could sense that whatever the king had planned for him, it wasn’t going to be good. After what he’d done, Varian wouldn’t have been surprised if they skipped the trial altogether and went straight to the gallows… 

_ Stop it, _ he thought, swallowing hard. _ They can’t do that, that’s not how the law works… I think. _

All he had to do was stay calm and keep his wits about him, and everything would be fine. He’d figure something out.

“In here,” said Stan gruffly, pushing open a large set of double doors at Varian’s left. Unlike the low torchlight of the hallway, this room was so brightly lit it almost hurt to look at. The full moon was glowing bright as the sun through the windowpane in the back of the room and gas-powered torches shone over the walls of shelves containing papers and boxes stuffed with a bizarre variety of items, ranging from battle armor to old socks. A guard sat behind a small desk, having swapped his helmet for a quill pen as he scribbled furiously over a stack of papers. He flicked his eyes up at Varian and then back his paper before jumping back, startled.

“Is this...?” he questioned, examining Varian with revolted curiosity. The two other guards stood at the door, shifting uncomfortably; Varian didn’t recognize them from the battle, but if the bandages on their hands and faces meant anything, his initial attacks on the kingdom must have left the kingdom’s military more damaged than he thought.

Stan nodded. “He’s here for processing.”

_ Processing? _

“Any, er… _ specific _ orders for his cell placement, sir?”

“Not yet. Standing orders are to go ahead with the typical level-three felon procedure until further notice.”

“Level… three?” said the guard skeptically, glancing over at Varian with a quizzical expression.

“He’s here for counts of treason, kidnapping, blackmail, and attempted double homicide, among other crimes- plus, he just attacked me and Pete on his way in here. I’d say that fits the bill.”

Varian didn’t like how they insisted on talking about him as if he wasn’t right there in the room. And what was ‘level three’ supposed to mean?

The guard behind the desk sighed as he shuffled through a stack of papers, peering down at the tiny handwriting with a furrowed brow. “Looks like there’s no more empty cells left on the third level...” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “But there are a few cells with room for one more.”

Stan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. This one’s placement is most likely temporary, anyway.”

“Alright then. He’ll be in cell 3-109.” The man stood up, removing an empty box from one of the shelves and holding a quill to its blank white label. He stared down at Varian coldly, his eyes betraying no emotion. “Name?”

Varian rolled his eyes. “What, haven’t you seen the wanted posters?”

_ “Name?” _

“Varian.”

The guard scratched his name down before slamming the box in front of Varian, making him flinch.

“Contraband goes in here. Your personal effects will be returned once you’ve served your time.” The man smirked. “Which, in your case, is going to take quite a while.”

“Contraband?” Varian asked, starting to feel that familiar bubble of panic rise up in his chest. “W-what do you–”

“The goggles, kid.” said Stan, reaching into his pocket for the keys to unlock Varian’s handcuffs. “And the apron. And the gloves. And whatever magic tricks you’ve still got up your sleeve.”

Varian grimaced; for the umpteenth time, it _ wasn’t magic. _ And his gloves and apron and goggles belonged to _ him _\- besides, it wasn’t like they were made to hurt anybody!

_ Well… _ he thought to himself. _ The lenses of my goggles are pretty hard, so if I whacked someone in the head just right, I could knock them out… and I suppose I could use my apron as a means of strangling one of the guards if the opportunity arises. Plus the apron strings are pretty durable, so I could potentially use them to tie someone up... and if I stuffed the gloves into a person’s mouth, it’d make a pretty decent gag… _

_ …yeah, this is probably why they’re considered off-limits. _

Varian glanced back at the guards standing by the door, then back up at Stan; it didn’t look like he had much of a choice in the matter. Sighing, Varian gently lifted Ruddiger off his shoulders and set him down on the desk before pulling off his gloves and tossing them in the box. 

“Oh yeah, and the raccoon too,” said Stan, pursing his lips. “No animals allowed in the cells.”

Varian’s eyes widened; no. Not Ruddiger. He _ needed _ Ruddiger, that little guy was the only thing that had kept him from losing his mind these past months, they _ couldn’t _ take him, Ruddiger was all he had left–

Stan scooped up the animal in his arms, ignoring the creature’s distressed chitters as he handed him off to one of the guards at the door. Varian couldn’t help but wince as the guard opened the door and turned the corner, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

“W- what are you going to do to him?” Varian demanded, his voice cracking against his will.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Relax, kid. That little beast is going back to the forest, where he belongs. Maybe when your sentence is complete, you can go find him.”

Varian bit down on his lower lip; raccoons only survived for two or three years in the wild. His total sum of crimes could easily keep him locked up for the rest of his life, assuming he wasn’t going to be hung at dawn.

_ I never even got to say goodbye. _

Hands trembling, Varian pulled off his apron and goggles and handed them over to Stan, who immediately began sifting through the inside pockets of the apron. After a moment, he pulled out a small yellow orb about the size of Varian’s fist, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Care to explain?” he asked, clenching his teeth.

Varian sighed. “It’s not another bomb, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a neutralizing compound.” Stan stared at him blankly; oh, _ come on. _ “Y’know… the stuff that melts the goo?”

“Ah! Well then,” Stan chuckled, tossing the orb in the air and catching it in one hand. “Looks like Pete won’t be stuck for long.” He glanced Varian over once more but didn’t request any more of his things, so he must have been satisfied. With a click, he once again locked Varian’s wrists in the cold iron shackles and nudged him back towards the doors.

For one fleeting moment, Varian had time to look back at the windowpane, briefly wondering when - or if - he’d see the light of day again. When he’d retrieve the items that defined his place as an alchemist, a man of _ science... _

The doors shut behind him, snapping Varian out of his train of thought. His eyes took longer than usual to adjust to the dim light of the hallway; it wasn’t until Stan prodded him towards a descending staircase that Varian fully registered where they were heading.

_ So that’s what they mean by ‘level three’. _

*******

The cold, damp air of the third and lowest level of the dungeons pricked at Varian’s skin like needles, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. 

It was bad enough having the guards look at him like he was some kind of circus freak, but it somehow felt worse to see cell after cell full of society’s rejects stare at him with expressions of surprise, shock, or even amusement. It wasn’t long before the whispers began, hissing strings of gossip about the child criminal, the crazy teenager, the Alchemist.

Varian bit down on his tongue, forcing himself not to lose his temper for the second time this evening. Who were _ they _ to judge him for what he’d done? It wasn’t like anyone here was an angel.

After what seemed like an eternity, the guards finally stopped in front of what must have been cell 3-109. One of them with a ring of jangling keys hanging off his belt stepped forward to latch open the heavy iron padlock, letting the cell’s barred door swing open with a creak. 

“Hey, man-bun,” one of the guards jeered. “Looks like you’ve got a new cellmate. Hope you don’t mind the company of another treasonous lunatic.”

“Oh, not at all, officer,” said a sarcastically cheerful voice from the corner. Varian squinted to see, but couldn’t quite discern the man’s face in the shadows. “You know how much I love making friends.”

“Yeah, yeah…” the guard muttered as he unlocked Varian’s shackles and shoved him into the cell. “Have fun with your new best friend, kid. The two of you can rot here together.”

The cell’s door slammed shut with an echoing clang, making Varian inwardly flinch. Taking a deep breath, Varian turned to face the corner where the voice had come from. There wasn’t much light, only the faint glow of the torches from the hall, but it was enough to make out the form of the man now walking towards him with a smirk.

He was tall and lithe, with a short beard and long hair tied back in a bun. His shirt was cut in a deep V-neck and a furry vest adorned his shoulders, making them seem more muscular than they already were. Even in the dark, Varian could tell that he was… well… _ really, really _ good-looking.

“So what are you in for, kiddo?” said the man, his head cocked to one side. “Did you steal an apple? Forget to say please and thank you?”

Varian grimaced; oh, so _ that’s _ how this was gonna work. Well, two could play _ that _ game–

The man chuckled. “Aw, I’m just messing with you. Pretty sure there are folks in Equis who heard the commotion your monster made in the city square,” he said, striding back to his bunk and leaning back against the wall. “Name’s Andrew. What’s yours?”

Varian didn’t answer, eyeing Andrew with no small amount of skepticism. If this guy was trying to be friendly, he had a funny way of showing it. But his cellmate towered over him by at least five inches, and (if Varian was being realistic) could probably beat him to a pulp if he was ever in the mood. Probably best not to get on his bad side just yet.

“Varian.” he stated bluntly, taking a seat on his bunk.

“Varian, huh? Not exactly a common name, but I’ve heard weirder,” Andrew replied. “You’re the talk of the prison, by the way. So tell me, did you really kidnap the princess?” 

“...the queen.” 

“_ Ha!” _Andrew laughed. “Nice. Well, congratulations, kid, you’ve come closer to taking down the royals than anyone else in this dump. I gotta admit, though, I never thought I’d see the day a twelve-year-old committed treason–”

“Would you _ shut up??” _ Varian snapped, clenching his teeth. Having some condescending pretty boy talk his ear off was the _ last _ thing he needed tonight. “And for your information, I’m _ not twelve. _”

“Oooh…” Andrew smirked, entirely unaffected by Varian’s outburst. “Touchy, touchy…” 

Varian shot a glare in his direction before laying down on his side, curling up as best he could with the burlap rag he supposed was meant to be a blanket. Staring at the rough stone wall and listening to the rats skitter through the damp, shadowy hallways, a sudden thought came screaming into Varian’s mind:

** _You do not belong here._ **

He never wanted this. Varian never meant to go this far- the plan was to force the princess to finally keep her promise and help him free his father. That was _ it. _

But she didn’t care… no one did. If they had their way, his father would stay trapped in the amber till the end of time. Kidnapping the queen was the only way to make them listen. 

The memory of the royal family’s loving embrace flashed through his mind and that familiar knot of anger and resentment began to form in his chest; Rapunzel couldn’t possibly understand the pain he’d gone through. For her, everything always worked out in the end- her family was safe, her citizens loved her blindly, and now even the black rocks had taken her side.

It wasn’t _ fair. _

As the silent seconds ticked by, Varian could feel his eyelids growing heavy- apparently, failed revenge was more exhausting than he’d anticipated. Eventually, sleep overcame him, sending him into a mercifully dreamless slumber.

This wasn’t the end. If they seriously thought they could keep him locked up and out of sight, then they were in for a rude awakening. Because unlike them, Varian planned to _ keep _ his promise.

They would pay. They would _ all _ pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varian is in a really terrible mindset right now, guys (don't worry, he'll mellow out... eventually)
> 
> I have plans to continue this story, but I have a track record of abandoning WIPs because my attention span is a disgrace to my good family name- so sit tight and I'll try my darndest to do this story justice.
> 
> If anyone wants to chat, you can find me on Tumblr @aj-illustrated and on the Tangled discord!
> 
> (Kudos are nice, but comments are lovely! Tell me what you think!)


	2. Buddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CHAPTER WARNINGS:** Mentions of hanging, mentions of death/physical harm, emotional manipulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I did not expect such an enthusiastic response to this fic’s first chapter! I’m so happy y’all are enjoying this self-indulgent little drabble~
> 
> Onward!

“Face it, kid, you’re never gonna escape,” said Andrew, leaning back in his bunk. “I’ve been locked up for five and a half months now. Security is air-tight down here.”

Varian rolled his eyes, continuing to inspect his side of the cell for any structural vulnerabilities he could exploit.  _ ‘Air-tight’... _ sure. If this kingdom had any value for security, then kidnapping the queen should’ve taken more than just an overgrown raccoon and some sleeping powder.

_ All right, Varian, focus. The sooner you find a way out of here, the sooner you figure out how to free Dad.  _

The lock on the cell door was the obvious choice – a lock was just another mechanical device, after all, so jimmying it open shouldn’t be too difficult – but without any sort of tools at his disposal, it would be impossible to pick. He had already deduced that the third level of the dungeons was deep underground, so trying to tunnel out through a weakness in the stone walls was a possibility… the only issue was that, at the moment, he had nothing but his bare hands to work with. There  _ was _ a small, barred grate on the ceiling leading to what Varian guessed was the second level of the prison, but even if he could reach the ceiling and pry off the metal plating, the opening was simply too small for him to squeeze through.

With nothing else to do, Varian stared, watching drops of mildewy water drip from the grate with a grim curiosity. 

_ I’ll bet Ruddiger could fit through there. _

Varian shook his head as the ache of loneliness began to well up inside him; no. Until Varian found a way to escape, there was no point in thinking about Ruddiger. Assuming the guards had been telling the truth, the little guy had been let loose in the forest and had probably run home.

Home…

“Kid, are you  _ crying?” _

Varian gritted his teeth, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat. “...no.”

Andrew smirked. “Whatever you say, buddy.”

A flare of aggravation burned within Varian’s chest. “I’m not your  _ ‘buddy’ _ .”

“Aww, now you’ve hurt my feelings,” said Andrew in a mock-offended tone, grinning broadly. “Tell you what– I’ll start leaving you alone once  _ you _ start spilling the details of your robot army’s attack on the royals.”

Varian inwardly groaned; how desperate was this man for gossip? Sure, being stuck in this dump for months on end must be boring as tar, but that didn’t mean he had the right to constantly pester Varian for the particulars of the second biggest failure of his life. If Andrew was looking for conversation, he was bunking with the wrong cellmate. 

The heavy thud of footsteps outside the cell caught Varian’s attention and he rushed back to sit back on his bunk, trying his best to look casual and not like he was contemplating tunneling through the floor with a spoon. In the glow of the torchlight, Varian could make out the silhouette of one of the guards on patrol. He didn’t recognize the man from last night or from the battle, but judging by the contempt in his eyes, the guard certainly recognized him.

“Got your breakfast, jailbirds,” he said disdainfully, sliding two trays with a piece of bread and a bowl through a slot in the bars. Upon a closer look, the bowls appeared to be filled with some kind of gelatinous gray paste that reminded Varian of the cement his dad would use to repair loose bricks. Smelled like it, too.

Andrew swiped up his tray and began to dig in, but Varian remained skeptical. After a moment he took a tentative bite; the offensively bland taste combined with an unpleasant gummy texture nearly made him gag. They were expecting him to  _ eat _ this??

The guard who had delivered the food must have been watching him; he sneered. “What, too good for prison gruel?” he taunted, leaning against his halberd. “Did  _ public enemy number one  _ expect the royal treatment? So sorry to disappoint.”

Varian bit his lip, resisting the urge to throw the gruel at the guard’s stupid, smug face. With a glare, he choked down another bite, refusing to break eye contact with the guard as he chewed up the mouthful of nauseatingly glue-like paste.

The guard rolled his eyes. “Get used to it, kid.” he leered. “Your trial begins in about fifteen minutes. His Majesty might not be one to send a kid to the gallows, but I don’t doubt that you’ll be spending a lot more time down here.”

Varian’s eyes widened;  _ fifteen minutes?? _

”Oooh, lucky you!” said Andrew lightly, taking a bite of his bread. “Say hi to Freddy for me!”

“It’s  _ King Frederic _ to you, Saporian,” the guard spat, casting a scornful look at Varian’s cellmate. “You’ll do well to remember that.”

Andrew shrugged, swallowing the last of his bread. “Well, I didn’t vote for him.”

“You don’t vote for kings!”

“You do in Saporia.”

The guard didn’t seem to have a response to this, his expression darkening before turning back to Varian. “Hurry up and eat,” he said, tightening his grip on his halberd. “I’ve been assigned to escort you to the courtroom and we don’t have all day.”

Varian cast a sidelong look at the still-full bowl of gruel, curling his lip in distaste. “I’m not hungry.”

The guard scoffed. “No skin off my nose, kid. If you’re not gonna eat, then get moving– you have a lot to answer for.”

With a turn of his key, the guard unlocked the cell door, and with another, latched a pair of handcuffs onto Varian’s wrists. The cold iron bit at Varian’s skin like ice, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.

“Consider yourself lucky,” the guard murmured as he slammed the cell door shut and relocked it. “Before the princess came back, traitors to the crown didn’t  _ get _ trials. It’s more than you deserve, anyway.”

Varian plodded down the hall, staring straight ahead to avoid the gaze of the other prisoners. A part of him wondered how many were alive today because of the king’s recent philosophy on execution– that is to say, his cutting back on the practice since Rapunzel’s return to the throne last year. Varian remembered the public hangings in the city square, huge crowds of people gathering to watch a handful of unlucky convicts be sent to their deaths. Dad had always steered him away from the spectacle whenever they traveled to the city, careful not to let his son be subjected to such a scene.

And to think– most of them probably never got a real trial. Perhaps Varian  _ was _ lucky.

Two flights of stairs later, Varian was back aboveground. Guards were stationed at every corner, their eyes following Varian as he shuffled towards an enormous set of double doors at the end of the corridor. A few glanced at him with thinly veiled expressions of terror; others looked positively murderous.

_ Well,  _ he thought absentmindedly. _ At least no one’s ignoring you anymore. _

A rush of cool air blew past Varian as the doors of the courtroom were pulled open, revealing the masses seated in anticipation for his trial. Varian’s breath hitched; half the kingdom must have been packed in there. 

The feeling of eyes boring into him as he trudged forward was nearly unbearable; whispers pricked at his ears, a tumult of voices overlapping each other, hissing like snakes. 

_ “Did you hear–?” _

_ “An army of living metal men–” _

_ “–always knew that boy was trouble–” _

_ “Witchcraft, that’s what it is, plain and simple–” _

_ “–may their Majesties have mercy on him–” _

A fold in the carpeting caught onto Varian’s foot, making him stumble– a low gasp erupted from a few of the front row spectators as they jumped back, startled. Varian gritted his teeth; did they seriously think he was going to attack them?  _ Now? _ Even if he had the energy, the courtroom was crawling with guards, including the Captain himself standing to the left of the witness stand. Not to mention he didn’t have so much as a nail file on him, let alone anything that could be used as a weapon– oh yeah, and he was  _ handcuffed.  _ Bunch of paranoid idiots.

So what if they hated him? Fine. He could live with that. He hated them too.

“ALL RISE FOR THEIR MAJESTIES, THE HONORABLE KING FREDERIC AND QUEEN ARIANNA!” shouted a beak-nosed man carrying a scroll. The onlookers rose to their feet as the king and queen emerged from a door to the side of the dais, seating themselves upon two of the three ornate golden thrones. 

So Rapunzel wasn’t coming. Typical. Ignoring her problems rather than facing them, pretending they didn’t exist… that was just like her, wasn’t it?

The king nodded towards the man with the scroll, and a sudden feeling of dread washed over Varian; he shook it away.  _ Whatever they have to say, it’ll be over soon. There’s no need to waste time trying proving my innocence. Everyone already knows what happened.  _

Varian steeled his jaw, his bangs falling in front of his face.  _ No point in pretending to apologize, either. _

With a wave of the king’s hand, the audience reseated themselves, their murmuring having finally gone quiet. Varian forced himself to look up, meeting Frederic’s eye with a withering glare; he  _ hated _ him, he  _ hated _ the royals and their secrets and their mountain of broken promises. _ ‘Honorable’ _ .... right.

He’d get his revenge. Maybe not today, but when the time was right, he’d hit them where it hurt, if only to make them understand the torture they’d willingly put him through– the happy ending they’d been denying him since the day of the storm.

Varian smiled grimly; this wasn’t the end. He’d make sure of that. The beak-nosed man opened the scroll, taking a deep breath. 

“COURT IS NOW IN SESSION!”

*******

Three months. Two weeks. Five days.

Varian should’ve known he’d screw up eventually.

He’d been mentally kicking himself about it all night; what had he been  _ thinking?? _ He should’ve known the Captain would be keeping a closer eye on him when he was assigned to scullery duties.

Sloppy, that’s what it was. He’d seen an opportunity and acted on impulse, without a clear plan in mind. Stupid, _ stupid… _

When the king had found him guilty of all charges and sentenced him to  _ twenty years _ of service to the crown, Varian had assumed that this was the royal’s idea of mercy, and likely it was. But that didn’t draw away from the fact that  _ apparently, _ taking him prisoner wasn’t enough– no, they had to add insult to injury and make him their  _ servant _ , too. The very thought of it made Varian sick to his stomach.

Anyway, all he wanted to do was cause a diversion, get the guards off his back for a minute while he slipped away. He hadn’t  _ meant _ to hurt anyone. And really, it was their own fault for allowing him near flammable substances in the first place. What were they expecting him to do?  _ Not  _ take advantage of a chance to escape?

(Evidently, that was exactly what they were expecting him to do. That’s why he was caught.)

A stirring from the corner jolted Varian out of his rumination; when they had tossed him back in the dungeons, his cellmate had already been fast asleep– the guy hadn’t moved a muscle all night. Part of Varian wondered if he might be dead, but he reasoned that the guards on patrol would have noticed if there was a corpse taking up space in their dungeons.

Or not. Who knows. At this point, Varian was beyond caring about much of anything.

The figure lying on the bunk opposite to him slowly began to sit up; Varian could’ve sworn he had seen that silhouette before. The man-bun definitely seemed familiar...

“ _ ...Andrew?” _ Varian muttered, narrowing his eyes to get a better look. 

The man perked up at that, turning to Varian with interest. “Well, well…” Andrew smirked, crossing his arms. “Long time, no see, kid.”

Varian didn’t answer, instead focusing on a discolored spot on the ceiling. A part of him felt annoyed with the man’s presence– he would have been perfectly content with solitary confinement, if only for the opportunity to recenter his thoughts without distraction. Yet inside him, there was the smallest inkling of gratitude for the company of another; though he had never been left unsupervised while working in the castle, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt more alone.

“So what brings you back to this corner of paradise?” asked Andrew sarcastically. “Miss the five-star accommodations?”

Despite himself, Varian snickered. “Hardly,” he replied, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk. “According to the Captain, I’m– what’s the word?–  _ ‘too dangerous’ _ to be around the royals or castle staff anymore.”

_ Dangerous...  _ A word simple-minded people use to label things they don’t understand, and one of the many ways Varian had been described over the years. It had never bothered him much before, and Varian wasn’t about to let it get to him now.

Andrew snorted. “Sure, kid. You’re the scariest bunny in the pet store.”

Now that  _ did _ bother him.

Varian glared. “Watch it, smart guy. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oooh, look at me, I’m shaking.”

Varian stood up, clenching his fists. “Okay. Fine. You wanna know why they’ve thrown me back in here?” he seethed, taking a step forward. “Half of the kitchens on the east side of the palace are  _ scorched black. _ A  _ quarter _ of the royal guard is stuck in the hospital wing. And I did that with a half-empty bottle of wine, a dish towel, and a  _ match.” _ Varian was standing toe-to-toe with Andrew now, eyes narrowed. “Wanna see what I can do to you?”

Andrew blinked, some unreadable emotion flashing across his eyes. “Interesting...” he muttered, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. He smirked, his expression returning to that demeanor of exasperating calm. “Nice bandana, by the way.”

Varian inhaled sharply; he’d forgotten he’d been wearing that stupid thing. They had given it to him when he started doing chores in the palace, and he’d grown rather accustomed to having it on while he worked– not for any sentimental reasons, mind you, but now that he was without his goggles, he needed  _ something _ to keep his hair out of his face.

Almost instinctively, Varian began to hurriedly untie the kerchief from around his head; no point in having it anymore now that he was stuck down here.

“No, I’m serious– I like it. Just needs a little sprucing up,” said Andrew, taking out a piece of chalk from his vest pocket. He held out his hand, quirking up an eyebrow in expectation. “May I?”

Varian hesitated for a moment, then snatched the kerchief off his head and crumpled it into a wad, tossing it to the man with a halfhearted eye roll; if Andrew wanted that piece of trash, he could have it.

Andrew crouched down on the hard stone floor, gently smoothing out the square of fabric. Peering at it with a discerning eye, he twirled the chalk in his hand for a second before pressing it to the kerchief, marking the dark red cloth with streaks of white. Varian tried to pretend like he couldn’t care less, but for some reason, he couldn’t look away. 

A minute later, Andrew set down the chalk, satisfied. “There,” he said with a smile, handing the bandana back to Varian. “ _ Now _ it’s cool.”

Varian hesitantly took it, holding the fabric up to the torchlight for a better look; once bare, the kerchief now was lined with sharp, crisp white fangs.

“Tie it around your neck and pull it up over your mouth,” Andrew suggested. “Trust me, men with pointy teeth are  _ totally _ in.”

The corner of Varian’s mouth quivered into an uncertain smile. Andrew had been nothing but a pain in his side since he’d first been locked up with him; why was he suddenly being nice? (especially since, not five minutes ago, Varian had threatened him with his life?) It didn’t add up. 

But the more Varian thought about it… the less he found that he cared. Hating people was starting to get exhausting, and he preferred to focus that energy towards the ones who  _ really _ deserved it.

And besides…the fangs  _ were _ kinda cool.

*******

“No way! You dated  _ Cassandra?” _

Andrew chuckled. “Lucky me, am I right?”

“Y-yeah! I mean… wow.” Varian clutched the edge of his bunk, trying not to let the shock be too obvious. “What was it like? Uh– dating her, I mean.”

Andrew hummed, closing his eyes. “Hot as fire and cold as ice,” he replied smoothly, leaning back with a smile. “Shame it had to end so soon. I wouldn’t have minded taking her out on a few more dates before overthrowing the monarchy.”

It had been more than a week since Varian’s return to the dungeons, and he was just as surprised as anyone to find that he… wasn’t miserable. Sure, the food hadn’t improved at all and the guards were just as hostile, but having someone on your side – someone who was willing to listen and who really understood Varian’s need for revenge – it made things... easier. 

Not to mention that Andrew was actually really cool! He could fly a hot air balloon, and sword fight, and sword fight while on a hot air balloon… he had been all over the world. He was a historian and an anthropologist and total bibliophile– he hadn’t read any of the same books Varian had, but Varian chalked that up to them having very different tastes in literature.

“Yeah, what happened with that?” Varian asked, curious. “Did– didn’t you call for backup when your plan fell through?”

Andrew shook his head. “By the time they received my distress signal, I was already behind bars. But I trust my fellow Saporians,” he said confidently. “They’ll break me out when the time is right.”

Varian frowned. “But... it’s been almost nine months since you got thrown in here,” he said. “W-when are they coming for you?”

“Whenever they can come up with a plan that won’t get us executed,” Andrew replied evenly, unbothered by the mention of such a thing. “After all, it’ll take more than brute force to break out of this hole. You’ve gotta be smart about it.”

That was another thing about Andrew that Varian found appealing– he had friends on the outside, a whole team of revolutionaries just as eager to dethrone Frederic as Varian was. Andrew had told him all about the other Saporians, how they’d been toiling for years to weaken the defenses of Corona in preparation for a mass uprising. 

_ “Even if he ruled over a country that was rightfully his,” _ Andrew had explained last night,  _ “Frederic has no business running a kingdom. A good king would never put the welfare of his family above the needs of his subjects.” _

Varian couldn’t agree more.

The familiar thud of footsteps in the distance prompted Varian to go quiet; every hour or so, a guard on patrol would pass by their cell, and he and Andrew had to be careful not to be discussing things that could get either of them in trouble– such as their attempts at taking over the government, or possible methods of escape that neither of them had tried yet. 

The slats between the bars of their cell opened and two trays slid in, carrying the usual rations. Varian snatched up his bowl and downed the contents in one gulp; the food here might be disgusting, but at least it was  _ something. _

“Hey kid,” said the guard outside the cell, tapping a finger on one of the bars. “Are you Varian? The, uh… alchemist?”

Varian scowled; great. Another gawker. “What’s it to you?”

“Gonna take that as a  _ ‘yes’... _ ” the guard said idly. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“A… a what?”

“A visitor, kid. He should be here any minute.”

_ This…  _ Varian thought, the gears in his mind spinning rapidly.  _ This is impossible. Level-three felons don’t _ get _ visitors. This must be some sort of trick, or ruse, or– _

His train of thought was cut short at the appearance of a stout, bearded man dressed in a periwinkle suit jacket; he carried a small burgundy briefcase with a shining gold padlock that matched the buckles on his shoes, and the top hat he wore was so tall it slouched forward, threatening to bend in half at any moment. His large, bushy mustache curled up at the edges and his graying beard fell past his shoulders all the way down to his chest. Altogether, he was one of the strangest-looking men Varian had ever seen.

“Top of the morning to you, lad,” said the man, speaking in an accent Varian could identify as being… British? Okay, sure. “My name is Doctor Maisie. I am here to help you.”

Varian’s expression darkened; now it made sense. “Oh,  _ are _ you?” Varian laughed mirthlessly. “That’s  _ rich. _ Let me guess– you’re another one of those quacks the king and queen sent to get me to  _ ‘come to my senses’ _ , aren’t you?”

“I am a psychologist, yes,” Maisie replied coolly, opening his briefcase and pulling out a pad of paper and a collapsible stool. “Though I won’t be able to do much if you aren’t willing to accept my services.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Varian spat, crossing his arms. “I don’t need another know-it-all shrink telling me that I need to be fixed.” He’d had quite enough of that during his time in the palace, thank you. 

Maisie stared at Varian carefully, a thin, strained smile stretching just beneath his mustache. “Varian… tell me about your childhood.”

“Oh,  _ good grief _ –”

“Ah, so it was unhappy?” Maisie asked, scribbling something down on his paper. “Fascinating. Tell me more.”

Varian groaned, turning to Andrew with an expression that said  _ ‘help me out here’;  _ Andrew didn’t seem to notice, his attention turned exclusively towards Maisie. A grin had itched its way up Andrew’s face and his eyes gleamed with a look that caught Varian off guard. After a second, Andrew must have realized that Varian was staring at him because his countenance quickly reverted back to its usual calm smirk.

Maisie glanced over to where Varian was looking, staring through the shadows to meet Andrew’s eye; his mustached twitched up for the barest of seconds before the man’s gaze returned to Varian. 

“You must tell me  _ something, _ Varian,” he urged, his eyes twinkling. “I am here to help.”

Varian sighed; this was going to take a while.

*******

“I think that will be all for the day, my boy,” said Maisie, standing up. “I trust that our next session will be more productive?”

“Fat chance, neckbeard.”

“Very well then. I’ll be seeing you again in two days’ time.”

The stool and pad of paper were quickly repacked into the briefcase and, with a tip of his hat, Maisie disappeared back into the shadowy hallway. Varian slumped back onto his bunk, rubbing his temples in aggravation.

“This is  _ inane,” _ he grumbled, glaring at the ceiling. “Why should I waste time  _ talking _ about my problems when I could be out there  _ solving _ them?”

Not that he’d done much talking. All he had done was toss out a snide comment or two, but for the most part, he kept quiet. This wasn’t his first exposure to therapy– he must have been to dozens of sessions during his time in the palace, and he knew for a fact that every word he said would be picked apart and analyzed by people who were  _ way _ too eager to know how he ticked. It was better just to say nothing at all and let them see how much they could gather from stone-cold silence.

Andrew winked. “Oh, I dunno…” he said with a smile. “This shrink might be a lot more helpful than you would assume.”

Varian furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing…” Andrew said, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

Okay, something was up. “Come on, tell me!”

Andrew glanced over to Varian and sighed, slowly adjusting his posture to match the young alchemist’s. “Listen, kid…” he started temperately, his voice poised and even. “I like you. You’ve got more intelligence in your little finger than the king has in his entire body. But the thing is…” he paused, pursing his lips. “I just don’t know if I can trust you yet.”

Varian didn’t know why, but something about that remark… stung. He wasn’t  _ insulted, _ per se– on the contrary, that bit of praise Andrew had given him made him feel almost… important. Andrew had treated him better than anyone had in a long, long time; unlike the rest of Corona, he  _ listened  _ to him and actually cared about what he had to say. 

Not very deep down… Varian  _ wanted _ Andrew to trust him. 

“Y–you can trust me!” Varian insisted. “I mean… we’re friends, right?”

For a moment, Varia was afraid that he had said the wrong thing; after all, what did  _ he _ know about making friends? The only real friendship he’d had that hadn’t come back to bite him was with a raccoon. But Andrew’s eyes softened slightly as he stood up and walked over to Varian’s side of the cell, placing a brotherly hand on his shoulder.

“Alright, buddy, I’m gonna level with you,” he said quietly so that Varian was the only one within earshot. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure about you at first, but like I said, you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. So I’m choosing to take a risk on you.”

Varian’s eyes widened as he tried to suppress a smile; so they  _ were _ friends. That… that was good to know.

Andrew looked around once more to make sure there weren’t any guards listening in; he took a deep breath. “I’ve told you about my fellow Separatists, haven’t I?”

“Yeah…”

“Well,” said Andrew. “You just met one of ‘em.”

_ ...What. _

Andrew smirked, amused at the look on Varian’s face. “Yep. That doctor you just spent the last hour talking with? He’s been working to revive Saporia since I was a kid.”

He continued, Varian listening in stunned silence. “Maisie told me that he used to be a medical student in Corona before he saw the light and joined the Separatists. When I got arrested all those months ago, Maisie forged some credentials and got himself hired as the prison’s psychologist. The plan was that he’d be my inside man– scout out ways for me to escape, maybe pass coded messages to me during a  _ ‘session’ _ . But that never happened.”

Andrew glanced away, a twinge of bitterness darkening his vision. “Either I wasn’t classified as being crazy enough to warrant therapy, or good king Freddy judged me as so irredeemable that any psychiatric help would be a waste of time. My bet’s on the latter.” Andrew paused, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “Maisie must have stayed on staff in case anything changed. But whatever the case, this is the first time I’ve been able to communicate with him.” Andrew shot Varian a grin. “I suppose I ought to be thanking you.”

“M-me?” Varian sputtered, still trying to process everything.

“Yeah, you!” Andrew exclaimed. “Kid, if you weren’t my cellmate, I would’ve had to do something  _ really _ crazy to convince them I need to talk to a therapist, and anything  _ that _ bad is more likely to send me to the gallows than to a doctor. But now that you’re here…” said Andrew, striding back to his bunk and sitting down. “Well, I think that attacking the princess with an army of living metal is crazy enough, wouldn’t you agree?”

A tsunami of thoughts flooded Varian’s mind yet somehow, his mouth couldn’t figure out how to put them into words; Andrew had an inside man. That meant  _ he _ had an inside man. 

“Andrew, this is… this…” Varian stammered, running a hand through his hair in amazement. “This is  _ perfect. _ D–do you have any idea what kind of possibilities are open to us now?  _ Anything is possible! _ H-he could smuggle us tools to pick the locks or tunnel through the walls, or drug the guards so we can slip away– are you listening to me?”

“Hm?” Andrew said, absentmindedly picking at a chip in the stone wall. “Oh yeah, just… thinking.”

Varian frowned. “About what?”

Andrew didn’t answer at first, giving Varian a shrug. “Well… not to burst your bubble or anything, kid, but you… you’re not exactly ‘in’ with the team. No offense.”

“Uh… none taken?” Varian said tentatively. “What do you mean, I’m not  _ ‘in’?” _

“I mean the other Separatists don’t know you,” Andrew explained. “That makes you a liability… a wild card, if you will. What if you ended up betraying us? The whole future of Saporia could be at stake.”

The excitement Varian had felt only minutes before began to rapidly drain away. “What… what are you saying?”

“I’m  _ saying  _ that I’m going to have a real hard time convincing my friends to do anything for your benefit if I can’t convince them that you’re worth the risk.” said Andrew firmly.

Varian bit down on his lower lip; as much as he hated to admit it… Andrew had a point. Varian certainly wouldn’t stick out his neck for some random kid– why should he expect them to do that for him? Besides, he had nothing to offer them.

…or did he–?

“What if…” Varian started, struggling to gather his thoughts. “What if I… made a promise?”

Andrew cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. Varian steeled his jaw; there was no turning back now. “I successfully drugged every person within the castle and stole the Sundrop flower,” he said resolutely. “I repurposed an army of automatons and took out the majority of the royal guard with a growth compound I fed to a  _ raccoon. _ I was  _ this close _ to taking over the kingdom, and I did that all on my own with no help whatsoever.” Varian smiled darkly. “Just imagine what I can do with a team backing me up… a team that I’ve pledged my undying loyalty to.”

“Hmm… I like the way you think, kid,” said Andrew, his lip twitching into a grin. “So what’s the deal?”

“The deal is that you convince your team to break both of us out here, and after I help you take down Corona, you give me the time and resources I need to free my father,” said Varian, trying to keep his hands from trembling.

Andrew eyed him for a moment. “I hope you know what you’re getting into,” he said carefully. “Loyalty to Saporia is a lifelong commitment.”

Varian nodded; a small, doubtful voice whispered in the back of his mind that this wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t be doing this; he pushed it away. It was too late for second-guessing himself. “You… you can trust me.”

“I know I can.” Andrew held out his hand; Varian hesitated for only a moment before shaking it in earnest. Andrew smiled.

“Welcome to Saporia, little buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Varian sweetie please don’t make friends with terrorists_
> 
> To those of you who might be concerned about Varian’s moral instability/raging angst fiesta, that can be attributed to the fact that essentially, he’s hit rock bottom and started to dig. Varian is in a dark, vulnerable place right now, and the company he’s keeping is not leading him down a good path. Character development is on the way, but I should probably tag this fic as slow-burn just to be on the safe side.
> 
> As for Varian’s memory of public hangings, while morbid, that was a real thing that was definitely going on during the timeline of Tangled (the last recorded public executions in Europe took place in the mid-to-late 20th century). From modern eyes, people watching executions for entertainment is a pretty sick thing to imagine, but before TV was invented there was like nothing to do, so... don’t judge the past too harshly.
> 
> (And yes, I included a reference to Monty Python because I have no self-control. Did you spot it? You get a cookie)
> 
> COMING UP NEXT: Prison heists!~ [aka: the trope I’m weak for and the whole reason I wrote this fic]
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr @aj-illustrated, on Twitter @AJ_illustrated, or on the Tangled Discord!
> 
> (Kudos are nice, but comments are lovely! Tell me below what you think!)


	3. Set Yourself Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I am SO, SO SORRY for the long wait! December and January were crazy for me and I hit a major writer’s block, plus I got sidetracked by some other projects… also, I have an incredibly short attention span. You were warned.
> 
> Secondly, I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS CHAPTER, GUYS!! Prison break stories are my JAM
> 
> (heads up, tho: While I did my best to keep the scientific parts accurate, I am not a chemist! I took like one Organic Chemistry class in my junior year and I think I got a B. If there’s anyone reading this who has a greater understanding of science/chemistry, please tell me in the comments if I did anything wrong!)
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Mentions of death, mentions/descriptions of injury, slightly more violence than is canon-typical, internal monologues, choppy action scenes, and sporadic timeskips.

Varian had become quite attuned to the sounds of the prison. 

Every now and then he’d close his eyes and concentrate on the low, cacophonous harmony that encompassed the Corona dungeons: water dripping from the cracks in the ceiling and walls; distant echoes of a patrol guard’s footsteps; the wet, hacking cough belonging to the prisoner three cells down…

It was rather therapeutic, Varian supposed; he had read about meditation, and this seemed to be comparable to the practice. But that wasn’t why he was doing it.

Besides the fact that there wasn’t much else to focus on (Varian could only count the ceiling tiles so many times before he could feel himself going insane), memorizing the rhythm of the dungeons had proved itself to be incredibly useful. The royal guard operated on a strict time schedule; from sound alone he could pinpoint the exact time of day a guard would pass his cell, and though his field of vision was limited, Varian knew where clusters of guards would gather to chat while on-duty. Every now and then, a snippet of conversation would reach his ears; nothing too interesting most of the time, but there had been a few gems– knowledge of which guards had a tendency to fall asleep at their posts, what prisoners had been acting up and required a tighter security detail… Varian had carefully cataloged the information in his mind; the more data he collected, the clearer the pattern became, and once he had nailed down a pattern, Varian could reasonably predict the guard’s every move.

_ That’s _ what he called therapeutic. 

Varian’s ears pricked up at the sound of a key being jostled into a padlock, followed by the low, grinding creak of the cell door as it swung open. Peeking between his eyelids, Varian was pleased to see that Andrew had returned.

“Hey kid,” Andrew said amicably, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “You awake?”

Varian hummed in affirmation, blinking a few times to readjust to the light. “Did you get the stuff?”

Andrew nodded, reaching into his vest and pulling out a bar of grayish-colored lye soap about the length of Varian’s hand. Prisoners were each granted one bath a month, and today had been Andrew’s turn; per Varian’s instruction, Andrew had managed to smuggle in some soap, but Varian wasn’t planning to use it for its cleansing properties.

Now that he had outside help, it really was incredible how many opportunities for escape were at his disposal. Not that it had been easy– Andrew wasn’t kidding when he said that it would take a lot to convince his fellow Separatists to trust Varian. Eventually Maisie had sent in the message that they had given in, though Varian had a sneaking suspicion that it was only for the sake of freeing Andrew. But Varian would make sure they wouldn’t regret it.

A thousand streams of thought raced through Varian’s mind as he took the bar of soap from Andrew, lazily turning it over in his hand; if he boiled it down to separate the lye from the fats and oils, Varian could make a rudimentary glycerol solution– though crude, it would still be both flammable _ and _ possibly combustible, and if he could get ahold of some nitric acid, there was the potential to create a sizable vat of nitroglycerin. Shower the dungeons with a bit of that, and he’d be home free–

Varian shook his head, grimacing; No. _ No. _ Dumb idea. Even if he had the right conditions to brew it, nitroglycerin was simply too volatile a chemical to handle in these circumstances– it was just as likely that he’d blow _ himself _ to kingdom come along with the prison. No, he was better off sticking to the original plan. Besides, now that he had the soap, all he had left to do was wait. _ ‘Therapy’ _with Maisie was twice a week, and his next session was coming up fast.

The familiar thud of footsteps and the clink of golden shoe buckles caught Varian’s attention. He smiled; _ speak of the devil… _

“Morning, lad,” said Maisie flatly, setting up his collapsible seat in the blink of an eye. “And how are we feeling this fine day?”

Varian sneered to himself, rolling his eyes; while he understood the need to keep up the appearance of normalcy, Varian found it a little hard to take this guy seriously when they both knew that it was only a matter of time before Maisie was going to help bust him out of here.

_ So… _ thought Varian with a smirk. _ Why not have a little fun? _

Varian let out a long, overly-drawn out groan, draping himself dramatically over the side of his bunk. “Oh, _ doctor, _ you were right!” he sighed. “I am _ sick! _ I am _ absolutely deranged! _ I can feel my mind becoming unglued as we speak! Please, please free me from the prison that is my own tortured psyche! Oh, remorse… _ remorse...” _

“Are you quite finished?” asked Maisie with a frown– though Varian noticed the twinkling in his eyes.

“That depends,” said Varian, the inflection of his voice returning to its usual, inquisitive cadence. “Are you?”

“My dear boy,” said Maisie, the slightest of smiles creeping up below his mustache as he reached into his coat pocket. “You know I am here to help you in any way I can.” With a wary glance towards the cluster of guards to his left (who were currently chatting up a storm), Maisie pulled out a small, lumpy package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a piece of twine, tossing it between the bars of the cell. Andrew dove down to catch it before it clattered to the floor, quickly unwrapping it to reveal a block of wood and a small paring knife.

The corners of Varian’s mouth flicked up; _ perfect. _ “Oh, you’ve helped me plenty, doc. But y’know… I think I just need _ one _ more breakthrough before I can really feel cured. You can do that, right?”

Maisie nodded, slowly lifting a hand to the brim of his top hat and poking a finger through the band, plucking out a rough-hewn iron key and passing it through the bars. The cold metal tinged at Varian’s fingers like an electric charge; he couldn’t help but grin.

“Doctor, I gotta admit, I had my doubts…” said Varian, idly tossing the key from hand to hand. “But man, we have made a _ lot _ of progress. Therapy works! Who knew, right?”

*******

“I still don’t get it, kid,” Andrew grumbled, setting down the half-carved block of wood with a scowl. “We _ had _ the key. We could’ve blown this popsicle stand _ tonight. _ What’s the point of Maisie giving us our ticket out of here if he’s just gonna put it back where he found it?”

Varian huffed, trying not to let off his annoyance. “Look, the guards might be stupid, but they’re not _ that _ stupid. Someone is bound to notice that a key to the _ maximum security _cell blocks is missing, and that’s going to raise a lot of attention that we don’t want. Besides, the copy will suit our purposes just fine.”

Andrew grumbled something under his breath but didn’t push the issue any further, examining the crudely-carved block for a moment before brushing away wood shavings into a small pile.

As much as Andrew might not understand it, Varian considered this to be his most ingenious plan yet. His last therapy session with Maisie had mostly been spent making meaningless small talk while Varian formed an impression of the cell’s key into the bar of soap. Andrew had a knack for whittling, so he’d been tasked with copying the key, using the soap as reference. It was slow work, but Varian was used to playing the long game.

But that was only stage one. They were still waiting on Andrew’s Saporian friends to set the rest of the plan in motion.

*******

Varian had come to the realization that he was either incredibly patient, or he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. A calm before the storm, if you will.

It really was astonishing how quickly time seemed to pass now that Varian had something to occupy his thoughts; maybe it was just the monotony of prison life, but days slipped into weeks before Varian had time to blink. Recognizing that did little to calm his nerves, though; it had been five entire sessions since he had requested that the Saporians smuggle him some alchemy ingredients– nearly three weeks now, and they still hadn’t delivered. Something was wrong. Something _ had _to be wrong.

Varian bit his lower lip, pacing back and forth across the length of the cell; What if Maisie misunderstood his instructions and brought him the wrong chemicals? What if, during the battle all those months ago, his alchemy supplies were destroyed or corroded? What if, _ what if…? _

Without those chemicals, Varian would have no weapons to use against the guards, and without a means to fight back, he was as good as caught. The only reason he made it as far as he did last time was because he had been able to construct a makeshift _ bomb, _ and even that hadn’t been enough to take down all the guards and castle staff– though Varian blamed that on the fact that he had had very limited supplies and about twelve seconds of prep time. He _ needed _ this extra fire powder– without it, there was no point in even trying.

“Hey, buddy... you alright?” Andrew asked, looking up from his whittling. “What’s eating you?”

Varian flinched as he snapped out of his trance, then let out a sigh. “Nothing, it’s…” he trailed off, staring at a crack in the wall. “H-how good is Maisie’s memory, exactly?”

Andrew’s face softened. “You’re worried about the plan, aren’t you?”

Varian froze for a moment, then nodded. “This… this _ needs _ to work, Andrew. If it doesn’t, we… we’re _ never _ getting out of here. And if we get caught, th-the king, he’ll–”

“Kill us?” said Andrew, a bit too lightly. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. But _ that–” _ he continued, standing up to wrap an arm around the young alchemist, “Is exactly why we are _ not _gonna get caught.”

Varian glanced upwards, warily meeting Andrew’s confident gaze. The man smiled, giving Varian’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Look kid, I might not get everything you’re saying, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the smartest person I know. If anyone’s gonna break us out of here, it’s you.”

Despite himself, Varian could feel the smile spreading over his face as the anxiety spiraling inside him began to quiet down; Andrew… Andrew _ believed _ in him. He _ trusted _ him.

And it felt _ amazing. _

Varian steeled his jaw, giving Andrew a firm nod. No matter what happened next, Varian was _ not _ going to let him down. This plan _ would work. _

It had to.

*******

When Maisie arrived for their Thursday evening session, Varian was expecting him to come empty-handed, as usual. He had never been so happy to be proven wrong. 

After carefully checking to make sure none of the guards were paying attention, two small, sealed paper packets were passed between the bars of the cell and into the alchemist’s hands; he snatched them up feverishly, hardly remembering to breathe from his excitement.

“A-and you’re _ sure _ they’re the right ones?” Varian asked apprehensively, keeping his voice low. 

Maisie sighed. “_ Yes. _ And you’re lucky to get them– we had quite some trouble following your specifications, seeing Old Corona is under constant observation. Not to mention that the manor house you specified has been pillaged to near-ruin–”

_ “WHAT??” _

Varian clapped a hand over his mouth as the guards peered over in curiosity; he hadn’t meant to react that loudly. 

_ “...what?” _ he hissed, trying in vain to keep the panic out of his voice. 

“Don’t fret, boy, your laboratory wasn’t touched. Not by burglars, at least,” said Maisie, rolling his eyes. “And I can see why– just the _ smell _ of those foul concoctions you’ve made would be enough to drive off anyone.”

Varian wanted to scream; he had expected that his home would be under surveillance, what with all the leftover debris from his automatons (and the fact that, in the wrong hands, his alchemy equipment was, admittedly, pretty frikkin’ dangerous), but wouldn’t that fact _ deter _ thieves? Was the royal guard so _ ludicrously incompentent _ that any petty criminal could just waltz inside and steal anything that wasn’t nailed down? Or were they only too happy to let Varian’s home be ransacked, as if he _ hadn’t suffered enough _at their hands?

Typical Coronan security. Varian was going to enjoy his revenge. 

He carefully tore off a corner of one of the packets, shaking a few grains of slate-blue powder into his hand, careful not to breathe any of it in. Antimony trisulfide was as poisonous as it was useful.

“And I assume the other pack contains potassium perchlorate?” Varian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Maisie nodded. “Your instructions were very precise.”

“Perfect,” Varian murmured, feeling a grin itching up his features. He turned around to face Andrew, quirking up an eyebrow. “You ready to get out of here?”

Andrew laughed, his smile matching Varian’s. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

*******

When he wasn’t restlessly pacing the length of the cell, Varian was sitting on his bunk in silence, taking in the sounds of the dungeons for what was (hopefully) the last time. As much as he tried to quiet it, his mind was racing with anticipation, reviewing the escape plan over and over again until it was burned into his memory. Occasionally, he’d double-check on the chemical powders he had kept stored in their packets; antimony trisulfide was dangerous enough on its own, but when mixed with anything chlorate-based… things would get messy, fast. It was better to keep them separated until absolutely necessary, no matter how much Varian wished he could blow this place to smithereens.

Tucking the packets inside his shirt, Varian let out a huff of impatience. Lights out was hours ago; Maisie had promised them a team of horses and a getaway driver, but wasn’t willing to risk any Separatists being identified or arrested during the day– which Varian sympathized with, and besides, he didn’t see them having very good odds of avoiding capture in broad daylight. Plus, guards stationed on the night shift were more often than not very easily distracted (or maybe all the guards were like that), so their pickup time being at night worked just fine.

The key was carved to perfection, his alchemy was at the ready, and Varian was getting sick of looking at the same four walls.

The heavy thump of a patrol guard’s boots struck Varian’s ear as they passed his cell; Varian counted the echoes under his breath as they faded off into the distance, waiting until they had disappeared completely before giving Andrew a nod. The man immediately jumped into action, pulling the wooden key out of his vest pocket and inserting it into the rusty iron padlock. It clicked as easily as the original would, letting the door lurch open with a creak.

Showtime.

Andrew motioned to Varian and the two darted out into the hall, careful to stay out of the torchlight. Andrew dashed over to the cell across from theirs, hastily unlocking it before rushing to do the same for the next few cells down the line. Two large, burly inmates with red hair and matching snarls made eye contact with Varian; he sucked in his breath, refusing to show any signs of uncertainty as he pointed towards the exit with a jerk of the head. 

The men smiled at each other, giving Varian a nod before sprinting off in the other direction. Down the hall, Varian could see the other freed prisoners following suit, whooping with exhilaration.

In minutes, nearly half of the third-level cells had been unlocked– and the guards had _ definitely _noticed. Distant shouts and the sounds of a struggle met Varian’s ears; things were going as expected for now, but if he didn’t get out before the guards got their act together, both he and his cellmate were going to be in some very, very hot water.

“Andrew!” Varian called, squinting to see through the darkness. “Andrew, that’s enough! We gotta go!”

Andrew emerged from the shadows, a halberd hefted over his shoulder. “Swiped this off a guard I knocked out,” he said, answering Varian’s questioning look. “So what’s next?”

“Well, it looks like the guards have their hands full right now, but we need to get moving before they call in reinforcements,” said Varian. “The staircase to the second level should be somewhere down this hall. Let’s go!”

They rushed down the corridor, Varian’s torch brightening their path. At this point, the horde of inmates they had set free were running wild, some heading for the exits like Andrew and Varian, while others were content to beat the snot out of any guard who came too close. 

It was chaos, and it was _ beautiful. _

Amid the masses of brawling inmates and overwhelmed guards, Varian spotted the entrance to the ascending staircase. Buzzing with adrenaline, he vaulted over a tattooed lady prisoner who had caught a guard in a chokehold, landing at the base of the stairs. Andrew followed close behind, barreling through the crowd until he had caught up to the young alchemist. 

“H-hey! Stop right there!” shouted a guard, grabbing the back of Andrew’s vest. “Drop your weapon!”

Andrew smirked, gripping his halberd with both hands. “I’ll fight you for it.”

In the blink of an eye, Andrew smacked the flat of the halberd on the side of the guard’s face; the man’s eyes lolled into the back of his head and he collapsed, out cold. 

“Come on, kid, let’s move!” said Andrew, clapping a hand on Varian’s shoulder before charging up the staircase. Varian moved to follow him, but a metallic glint on the fallen guard’s hip caught his eye; a ring of keys. Those might come in handy.

He reached down and tore the ring from the guard’s belt loop, the iron keys jangling together as he tore up the stairs to the second level. Andrew had already gotten to work, jamming the wooden key into one of the locks, but to no avail. 

“It’s not working!” he hissed, knitting his brow in frustration.

“Of course it’s not working! They’re not gonna have the same locks for every level!” Varian replied, fumbling the keyring in his hands until he found one that looked right. “Here, use this!”

He tossed the ring to Andrew, who caught it in one hand. In minutes, a whole row of cells were unlocked and their inhabitants were cautiously peering out into the hall, then bolting out into the open corridor.

Varian wasted no time in finding the next staircase, the feeling of elation inside him steadily rising; the plan was working. It was _ working! _

The next floor was little more than a blur– any guards they came across were swiftly taken out by Andrew, and one was taken by surprise when Varian ripped a torch off the wall and pitched it at a guard’s feet, setting the toe of his left boot on fire. Varian ran like he had never run before, and _ oh, how good it felt to run– _ he hadn’t been able to really stretch his legs in _ months _ , and this was _ heaven. _

“Andrew, come on!” Varian exclaimed, pointing to the locked entranceway. “We’ve gotta get to the processing area, _ fast!” _

“What?? Kid, that’s not exactly a priority–”

“They have my stuff! There is _ no way _ I’m letting them keep my stuff!”

Andrew looked like he wanted to argue, but seemed to realize that Varian wasn’t going to budge. He rammed a key into the entraceway’s lock and kicked open the door; a rush of cool air blew past the two, the abrupt sensation making Varian blink. 

There wasn’t a moment to waste. Varian darted down the spindling hallways, scanning over the near-identical exits for one that looked familiar. He remembered the processing room having a set of double doors… and a pair of soldiers guarding them.

“Kid, what are you waiting for?” Andrew demanded, keeping his voice low. 

“Hold on, something’s not right,” Varian murmured. “Where are all the guards? There were like a _ billion _ of them before!”

_ “I don’t know, _ maybe they’re all busy handling the riot in the dungeons! Who _ cares? _ Let’s _ go!” _

“I…” Varian trailed off; his gut was telling him that something was wrong, but the urgency in Andrew’s voice threw him for a loop. “Y-you’re right. Just… watch my back, okay?”

“Whatever you say, bud.”

Varian rounded a corner, turning on his heel. Andrew did have a point; retrieving his things wasn’t the most important thing he could be doing right now, but some part of his brain irrationally insisted that he _ needed _ his goggles, apron, and gloves– they were a _ part _of him, and without them, he was just some lost, scatterbrained kid in over his head. 

Logically, he knew it didn’t make any sense. Varian was an alchemist with or without his gear, and he had a pocket full of explosive chemicals to prove it. But that didn’t do much to relieve the butterflies in his stomach that came to life whenever his consciousness turned to the lack of familiar weight from his goggles, or the chill bareness of his hands.

Or maybe he just couldn’t stand the thought of the King hoarding his stuff like some kind of trophy. Varian would rather _ die _ than give the royals that satisfaction.

After a moment, he stopped to catch his breath, his ears keen for any indication of the absent guards. Behind him, the steady thump of approaching footsteps caught his attention and Varian’s heart skipped a beat. Before he had time to duck out sight, a hand had reached out and grabbed his upper arm; Varian flinched, letting out an involuntary yelp.

“Relax, cowboy, it’s just me,” said Andrew, smirking down at Varian in amused exasperation. “Listen, I think I found the processing area, about four doors thataway. Only grab the essentials, got it?”

Varian nodded, turning around and sprinting in the direction Andrew had pointed to. Sure enough, the set of double doors from his memory was right where the man said they’d be. Pushing them open, Varian hissed at the sudden surge of light; he had forgotten how brightly lit this room was. Now figure out _ where _were they hiding his stuff–

“H-hey! What’re you– you’re one of the prisoners, aren’t you? What are you doing out of your cell??”

Varian jumped, cringing at the sight of a guard who was previously sitting behind desk and currently was pointing his very sharp halberd at Varian’s chest. 

_ Drat… _ he thought absentmindedly, backing away from the halberd’s edge. _ Forgot about him. _

The guard scowled. “Kid, I don’t know _ how _ you managed to sneak all the way up here without getting caught, but if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to march right back down to your cell– _ GAAAH!!” _

In the blink of an eye, the guard’s halberd was knocked out of his hands and the man was on his back, held down by Andrew’s foot. Andrew had pointed his own weapon beneath the guard’s chin, the blade pressing against flesh just hard enough to draw blood.

“Make it fast, kid,” Andrew bristled. “I don’t wanna stick around here for much longer.”

Slightly dazed, Varian nodded, turning his attention back to finding his belongings. The walls were lined with shelf after enormous shelf, each piled high with overflowing boxes of contraband. Varian scanned the shelves for the container that bore his name and eventually found it on one of the upper rows, shoved between two boxes of what appeared to be dirty laundry. 

Varian stood on his tiptoes and reached upwards, his fingers barely grasping hold of the box. A flood of relief rushed through him at the sight of his old alchemy gear (now with a thin layer of dust coating the top), and in seconds he slipped his apron on, re-gloved his hands and snapped his goggles over his face. 

_ Now _ he was back in business.

“Y’know, I had _ no idea _ breaking out of jail is so easy!” said Varian gleefully, smirking down at the fallen guard. “Seriously, someone could’ve just tied a key to a reasonably intelligent duck and tossed it through the front door, and half the prison could escape before your army of clowns could reach for their helmets! It’s sad, really.”

“Hey kid, as fun as this is, we _ kinda have to _ ** _go,_ ** _ ” _ Andrew hissed impatiently, pointing towards the doors with a jerk of his head. Varian shrank back slightly, nodding. Right. It was too early to celebrate. Time to focus. 

Going by Varian’s memory, the processing center was pretty close to the prison’s outdoor drop-off area… the only issue would be figuring out which direction to head towards. Peering around the corner, Varian scanned the corridor for any patrolling guards; it seemed to still be deserted. Weird. 

Probably nothing to worry about.

The hallway was little more than a blur as Varian broke out into a dead-on sprint, Andrew following close behind. Sure enough, the exit was just as close as Varian remembered… and bolted shut.

With one forceful blow from Andrew’s halberd, the heavy iron padlock latched on the exit crumpled and clattered to the floor in pieces, and with another, the door burst open. An involuntary gasp escaped Varian’s throat as a gust of crisp night air blew past him. It was almost enough to distract from the squadron of guards standing at attention just in front of the doorway. Almost.

Practically in unison, the wave of guards turned to see whatever had come through the door; in a heartbeat, their weapons were pointed at the two and the mass of soldiers had parted like the Red Sea, revealing a man who Varian had hoped he’d never have to face.

“Well, well…” the Captain smirked, drawing his sword from its scabbard. “I suspected you had something to do with this little riot.” The man walked forward slowly; all of Varian’s sense were telling him to run, to _ get out of there, _ but his feet seemed like they were glued to the ground. “End of the line, _ alchemist.” _

Something about how he said that seemed to make something click.

“Listen, kid?” Andrew whispered, adjusting his grip on his halberd. “Not to sound urgent here, if you’ve got any more tricks up your sleeve, _ now’s the time to use them.” _

Varian smiled, snapping his goggles over his eyes. “Give me eleven– no, ten seconds. And uh… keep your eyes closed.”

He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to use the chemicals Maisie had given him– they weren’t exactly easy to come by, after all, and Varian would’ve preferred to save them for some more enjoyable use. But it looked like he’d been right about needing extra firepower to escape, and he was _ not _ stepping back in that cell.

Ripping open one of the packets he’d tucked away in his shirt, he poured its contents into the other envelope, shaking it as hard as he could before tossing it toward the guards. The result was almost instantaneous; just mixing a few milligrams of antimony trisulfide and potassium perchlorate was enough to create a blinding flash of light and an ear-splitting boom that sent the guards flying backward, shrieking in agony and confusion. A few of the soldiers who had been closer to the blast were left writhing on the ground, and even the Captain had stumbled back, a forearm covering his streaming eyes as he hissed in pain.

“Nice one!” Andrew exclaimed, clapping Varian on the back. “That’s some strong stuff you got there. Let’s not wait around for it to wear off, eh?”

Varian nodded, moving to follow Andrew beyond the gates of the drop-off yard; out of nowhere, a stunned guard staggered in front of him, haphazardly grasping Varian’s apron in some futile attempt to stop him. Varian sneered, shoving the guard off of him and inadvertently meeting his eye–

Varian froze, faltering in his step. The guard, he… he looked so _ scared. _

“Come _ on, _ kid!” shouted Andrew, his voice tinged with annoyance. “What are you waiting for?”

Varian shook his head. “Y-yeah, sorry.” Criminy, what was the _ matter _ with him? Of _ course _ the guard looked scared. He just got hit with a _ bomb. _ It was nothing personal. And even if it _ was _ personal, so what? Varian didn’t care. Besides, he was probably so dazed that he couldn’t even tell who he’d bumped into.

Despite his best efforts, thought, that familiar knot of guilt in Varian’s stomach was tightening; no._ No. _ He didn’t have time to deal with this. He was just being dumb.

Careful not to run into any more guards, Varian followed Andrew outside the gates of the drop-off yard, darting between the darkened alleyways of the palace’s stables and servant’s quarters. The blurred landscape shifted from pristine stone buildings to the simple wooden structures that lined the familiar streets of the capital. Andrew led the way, occasionally doubling back and heading in the opposite direction to throw off any would-be tailgaters. 

Varian briefly wondered if he knew where he was going at all; just as he opened his mouth to ask Andrew where exactly they were going, the man stopped dead in his tracks, holding his arm out to block Varian’s path.

“Andrew, _ what _–”

_ “Look,” _ said Andrew, pointing across the street at a small wooden cart harnessed to a dark gray stallion. Holding the reins was a cloaked woman with a long mane of tied-back dreadlocks; Andrew let out a long, low whistle to grab her attention. At the sight of him, the woman’s eyes lit up and a grin itched its way onto her face. 

“Took you long enough,” she said good-naturedly, hopping off the cart and landing a playful punch on Andrew’s bicep. “For a while there, I thought the guards mighta’ nabbed you.”

“What, me? Nah– not while I’ve got _ this _ brainiac on my side.” Andrew replied, rufflig Varian’s hair. “Juniper, meet Varian: the mastermind of this operation and our newest recruit.”

Juniper shot Varian a considering smile. “So you’re the famous alchemist, eh? Put ‘er there.” She held out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation at the unanticipated friendliness, Varian shook it, finding her grip strong and firm.

“Any guards tailing you?” she asked Andrew.

“None that I’ve spotted, but let’s not stick around to find out,” said Andrew. “Besides, I’d kill for a decent meal right about now. Call me picky, but if I never eat prison gruel again, it’ll be too soon. You with me, kid?”

Varian nodded, climbing into the back of the cart. In moments, they were speeding down the cobblestone streets, brisk wind whipping through Varian’s hair. Beside him, Andrew leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs and taking a deep, satisfied breath.

“I gotta say, kid, that was some nice work,” he said, giving Varian a lighthearted nudge. “Don’t get me wrong, there were times when I doubted if we’d make it out alive, but I knew I could count on you.” He set a brotherly hand on Varian’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, buddy.”

Despite himself, Varian grinned, glowing with pride. His gaze drifted upwards; the stars were bright tonight. Brighter than they’d been in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand… scene!
> 
> (you might’ve recognized a few series villains during the riot– if you spotted them, you get a pat on the head)
> 
> Personally, I felt like I kinda rushed this (fast-paced action scenes are the bane of my existence), but I think it turned out alright. Tell me what you think in the comments!
> 
> The story is not over just yet– there’s still a chapter or two left before this story reaches its conclusion, so stay tuned!
> 
> (phrases I googled while writing this: “how to make flash powder” “can flash powder kill you” “how to forge a key using wood” “will antimony trisulfide and potassium perchlorate explode on contact” “how to get rid of writer’s block” “how big of an explosion can a human realistically survive”)


	4. Everything I Ever Thought I Knew

The cool, pleasant air of mid-October blew softly past Varian, whistling in his ears as he munched on an apple. He’d always loved the autumn.

Since his and Andrew’s escape, Varian had begun spending a lot more time outside; it wasn’t that staying indoors for too long made him nervous, it’s just… well, maybe it made him a little nervous, but that was beside the point. The weather was fantastic, and at the moment there was no need for him to stay cooped up. As long as he didn’t stray too far into the woods, he’d be fine.

Varian used to think that he’d explored every inch of forest between Old Corona and the capital, but he’d never come close to the wayward clearing where Clementine’s cottage stood. The house was small, cluttered with bins of strange substances and foreign objects, but he supposed it was clean enough, and it made for a decent headquarters. 

Clementine had insisted that he and Andrew stay with her to lay low; the spare room he was staying bore a striking resemblance to a broom closet with a window, but it was his  _ (his!),  _ and that was more than Varian had ever expected. In any case, it was better than taking his chances out in the wild; from the news Maisie had been bringing back over the last couple of weeks, all the rioting prisoners on the dungeon’s third level had been shipped off onto a prison barge, presumably for the rest of their lives. (sometimes, while trying in vain to fall asleep, Varian would wonder if that could’ve been his fate if he’d made just one wrong step, one miscalculation,  _ just one _ –)

By now, the guards were likely scouring the kingdom and outlying forest for any sign of the two escapees, but Varian and Andrew had been careful not to leave any trace of their whereabouts. They seemed to have done a good job of it, too– after four and a half weeks, not one of the soldiers had uncovered their hiding spot.

Varian had to remind himself of that a  _ lot. _

Every now and then, Varian would find himself waking in a cold sweat, disoriented and terrified that somehow, the guards had found him and were hauling him off to the dungeons, or back to the castle to stand trial for the chaos he caused during the break-out, or onto a prison barge where he could  _ never, ever escape– _

Behind him, a twig snapped and Varian’s heart skipped a beat; before he even had time to think, a goo bomb was hurled at the source of the noise. Once he had mustered the courage to open his eyes, though, Varian found himself just as bewildered as the squirrel he’d encased in pink goo.

_ “Stop it,” _ he said out loud, shaking his head in frustration as he tossed a neutralizing compound towards the animal, feeling a twinge of guilt for overreacting.

This was stupid. No one was going to find him, and even if they did, he had taken care to stay fully armed at all times. Clementine had been kind enough to give him access to her abundant stores of ‘magical’ ingredients (many of which were just as applicable to alchemy). Varian had had ample time on his hands these last few weeks, time he used to create a whole stockpile of goo bombs, flash grenades and quick-acting cement, along with a few deadlier options just in case things got ugly. And if the guards ever did find him, it  _ would _ get ugly.

_ On the bright side, though… _ he thought, taking a bite of his apple.  _ At least I have some extra back-up this time. _

Since he’d arrived at Clementine’s cottage, he’d come to appreciate the company of the other Separatists. They each had their own residences in and around the kingdom, but Clementine’s seemed to be the center of operations; it wasn’t uncommon for Kai or Juniper to drop in unannounced, usually bringing with them news from Corona or one of the surrounding cities (Vardaros had gone through one heck of a makeover, apparently– something having to do with bees. Varian had only half-listened to that update).

Varian would never admit it out loud, but it was kind of nice to have a team backing him up. All of Andrew’s friends had been so nice to him since they arrived at Clementine’s, congratulating him on his ingenuity and cunning during the escape and the Battle of Old Corona (it stung a bit to have one his greatest failures brought up so casually, but still… the praise was nice).

They had even gone through their own belongings and donated some items of clothing; he had worn his old shirt and trousers for years and prison had done them no favors, leaving them frayed and threadbare and on the brink of falling apart. So although what the Saporians had given him wasn’t exactly new, it was easily the best-looking outfit he had ever owned (with actual  _ shoes _ this time! Varian had never been able to afford a real pair of shoes in his life – he was accustomed to wrapping strips of leather around his feet – and it was a luxury he could hardly believe he’d been able to live without).

It felt good to be appreciated.

All the same, though… he couldn’t push away the sick feeling of dread stewing inside him. It was no secret that he wasn’t exactly fond of the king and queen or any of their citizens, but something about these Saporians and their plans for a violent takeover… it felt  _ wrong. _

But...  _ why  _ did it feel wrong? Only a few months ago, Varian had been more than willing to exact vengeance on the people who had so callously turned their backs on him in his time of need. He had  _ wanted _ to make them feel the same pain, the same loss he felt when his dad had been encased in amber and no one had come to help him. He had laughed at the thought of harm coming to the king and queen and every one of their citizens, had barely spared a thought for the destruction he caused with his attacks on the capital. Prison was a living nightmare, more fuel to feed his righteous anger towards the throne.

The Saporians were giving him the chance to unleash the revenge he’d been craving since he’d stolen the flower– this kind of opportunity wasn’t likely to come again, not without the resources and security the Saporians provided. Working with them was the  _ only logical choice. _

Varian screwed his eyes shut, picturing which wing of the palace he’d set fire to first. But instead of the familiar giddy feeling of satisfaction, all he felt was a sick, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. The memory of frightened screams invaded his imagination; the carnage and chaos of the prison riot, a stunned prison guard looking up at him with the look of a cornered animal– just the thought made Varian want to throw up.

Maybe… maybe he didn’t want revenge anymore.

Varian slumped against a tree, biting down on his lower lip; this was stupid.  _ Of course _ he wanted revenge. Anyone would after what he’d been through. 

Besides, he had a debt to pay. Without the aid of the Saporians, he’d still be rotting in the dungeons, paying for crimes he had been perfectly justified in committing. And he  _ had  _ been justified; If he hadn’t stolen the sundrop flower, he never would’ve figured out that its power now laid in Rapunzel, and if he hadn’t kidnapped the queen, then Rapunzel would have just kept on ignoring his pleas for help. Sure, his problem-solving methods were questionable at best, he’d be the first to admit it, but that didn’t erase the fact that it was the  _ only way. _

A rustle in the bushes snapped Varian out of his train of thought; instinctively, he reached for an orb on his belt, his pulse beating so fast Varian thought he might be vibrating. He took a step closer to the bushes, hardly daring to breathe–

A black-and-white ringed tail swished past him, scurrying further off into the thicket of trees. Varian froze for a moment before letting out a frustrated groan; a raccoon. He had gotten spooked by a  _ raccoon.  _ Criminy, this was getting pathetic.

Maybe he’d been out in the sun too long. It really was too warm to be wearing this giant coat, anyway.

Varian turned around to walk back to Clementine’s, taking a half-hearted bite of his apple. Maybe that ‘essential oils’ thing Kai kept talking about would help calm him down–

–wait, raccoon?

No. No way. 

There must be hundreds of raccoons in this forest.

The chances it could be him were practically nonexistent…

Varian gritted his teeth; this was going to drive him crazy if he didn’t at least check.

Shoving his half-eaten apple into his coat pocket, he bolted back to the bushes, weaving between trees keeping a sharp eye out for anything resembling his best friend. A flash of black-and-white stripes caught his eye and he darted between the tangled branches of a willow tree, narrowly avoiding running facefirst into a spiderweb. Eventually he made it to the base of a sprawling oak tree, watching the creature he’d been chasing nimbly scamper up into the lower branches.

Without giving it a second thought, Varian grabbed hold of the knobbly tree bark and began to climb. In minutes, he was on the same branch as the raccoon, who looked ready to leap off the tree at any moment.

“Shh, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you…” Varian crooned, gesturing for the animal to come closer. “Hey– hey, you want a treat? I’ve got an apple right here,” Varian pulled out the remains of the fruit from his pocket, holding it out to the raccoon. “You want it? It’s yours.”

The raccoon took a half step closer, examining the apple for a moment before snatching it out of Varian’s hand and digging in. Varian scooched forward on the tree branch, scanning the animal for any discerning characteristics; by all accounts, Ruddiger was just your average raccoon, but he had a few distinct markings–

–like a small purple spot on the right side of his hindquarters, left over from an injection that briefly turned this raccoon into a rampaging monster.

_ “Ruddiger!” _ Varian exclaimed, scooping up the creature in his arms. Ruddiger chittered in protest for a moment before meeting Varian’s shining eyes. He beamed, nuzzling his face into Varian’s chest, the apple forgotten.

“I missed you too, buddy…” Varian laughed, giving Ruddiger a scratch behind the ears. “It’s been rough out in the forest, hasn’t it?” Varian was glad Ruddiger was so intelligent; most animals who were used to living indoors wouldn’t have been able to adjust to fending for themselves. “Hey, you wanna come meet my new friends? Come on, you’ll love them!”

Varian shimmied down the tree trunk with Ruddiger nestled on his shoulders, practically skipping back to Clementine’s cottage. He thought he’d never see Ruddiger again after the guards had separated them; there was so much to tell him! The logical part of his brain pointed out that it was a little weird to be talking to a raccoon at all, but for once Varian didn’t care about logic. He’d found his best friend! 

In what felt like no time at all, they had made it over to Clementine’s, Varian prattling on about the new compounds he’d developed since coming to stay with the Saporians. Ruddiger listened attentively, chittering happily in response.

Clementine’s cottage was already small, but at the sight of the Saporians all crowded around the table in her cramped dining room, it somehow felt smaller. A low babble of conversation rose from the group, overlapping each other in discordant waves. 

Varian raised an eyebrow, making a beeline for the table. “What’s going on?”

Andrew looked up, giving Varian a curt nod. “Maisie swiped us a map of the palace’s floor plan. We’re considering organizing a strike, but…”

“But what?”

Andrew shrugged. “Since the jailbreak, security around the dungeons has nearly tripled, and while that normally wouldn’t be an issue, the guards are also covering every ground entrance in and out of the castle, and for this to work, we’ve got to hit the lower floors first.”

Varian glanced over the map spread over the table. “Have you thought of ballooning in and beginning the strike from the top floors?”

From the other side of the table, Juniper scoffed. “That was my idea. Won’t work, though… with the guards so paranoid, our hot air balloons will be shot down before they get within a hundred feet of the castle.”

Ruddiger’s paws dug into Varian’s shoulder as his tail flicked skittishly next to his master’s face; Varian ignored it, clutching his chin in thought. “What about going through the vault?”

At that, the Saporians didn’t answer– mainly because they were too busy looking at him like he had suggested they use trained squirrels to overtake the capital. 

“Whaddaya mean,  _ ‘go through the vault?’ _ ” Kai asked, crossing his arms. “It’s a vault. What do you want us to do, teleport inside?”

“What? No, that’s– wait,” Varian said, shaking his head. “You guys don’t know about the tunnels?” At their blank look, he elaborated. “Y’know… Herz Der Sonne’s tunnels?... the ones that run directly beneath the castle’s vault?”

The Saporians exchanged a look. “Boy, that’s just an urban legend,” Clementine replied, pressing her thumb and forefinger against the bridge of her warty nose. “Andrew here’s the only one fool enough to believe it, and that earned him ten months in the dungeon.”

“Hey!” Andrew protested, looking indignant.

Clementine rolled her eyes. “It’s an old wive’s tale, and everyone knows it, Andrew. And even if Herz Der Sonne  _ did  _ construct his tunnels, the legend says that they run beneath the  _ city, _ not the castle.”

Varian felt a smirk begin itching up his face. “Is that so?” he asked, allowing an air of superiority to seep into his tone. “Well, for an old wive’s tale, it felt  _ pretty real _ when I used it to break into the vault to swipe the sundrop flower.”

_ That  _ got their attention. 

Andrew’s face split into a wide grin. “Ha!  _ Yes!  _ I  _ told _ you guys it wasn’t just a legend!” He ruffled the top of Varian’s hair, shooting him an approving look. “Alright buddy, lead the way. What’s our first step?”

For a moment, Varian was too stunned to respond; Andrew… Andrew was letting him take the lead. _Him._ **_Varian._**

“I…” he said, his mouth gaping open. He shook his head, trying not to look too pleased. “Well, o-over on the east end of the palace courtyards, by the soldier’s barracks, there’s a trapdoor hidden beneath a bould– OW!”

Varian was cut off mid-sentence by a sharp pain on his shoulder; Ruddiger had sunk his claws into the soft part of his flesh, just hard enough to hurt without drawing blood.

“Ruddiger, what’d you do that for?” Varian said, not bothering to keep the irritation out of his voice. Ruddiger only chirped in response, looking slightly apprehensive but not at all sorry.

Kai glanced over at the raccoon, his eyebrow quirking up in interest. “And who is  _ this  _ majestic creature?” He held out a finger to scratch Ruddiger behind the ears. “C’mere, lil’ guy, I’m not gonna hurt you… I am a friend to  _ all  _ of Mother Nature’s creations– OUCH!”

Ruddiger had taken one look at Kai and chomped down on his outstretched finger, hissing at the man in fierce warning. Kai seemed to get the message, or at least understood that Ruddiger wasn’t in a very friendly mood.

“Ruddiger!” Varian cried, pulling the animal off his shoulder. “What is the  _ matter  _ with you today?” He turned to Kai, biting down on his lower lip. “I’m  _ so  _ sorry– he doesn’t usually act like this.”

“Uh… no worries,” Kai said, wincing at his throbbing finger. “He was only acting on his natural animal instincts, after all…  _ ow…” _

Varian set Ruddiger down on the floor just beneath the table. “ _ Stay. _ And be good.” Ruddiger glared at him, but didn’t try to push it. Varian stood back up, refocusing on the map spread over the table. 

Thankfully, the slight hiccup in the conversation didn’t detract from Varian’s explanation of Herz Der Sonne’s tunnel system and his ideas for how they could take advantage of the weakened security on the main floors. As long as they steered clear of the entrances to the dungeons and stayed on the down-low on their way to the throne room, the strike should go off without a hitch–

Before he knew it, the sun had dipped out of the sky and Varian’s stomach was rumbling in unison with his fellow Saporians. Kai was in charge of dinner tonight and had prepared a lentil soup with a special grain he’d had shipped in from the Americas, called “keen-wa”. Like most of the food here, it tasted rather odd, but Varian was slowly getting used to the health code his new friends apparently lived by ( _ ‘veganism’ _ , if he remembered correctly).

Ruddiger didn’t seem to care for it, though; anytime Varian offered him some of his soup, Ruddiger only chittered angrily and batted away his hand. He didn’t even want one of the apples Kai offered him… 

_ He’s probably still used to living in the forest… _ Varian thought, pursing his lips.  _ He just doesn’t trust strangers. It’s fine, that’s normal. He’ll be okay after a few more days. _

Brainstorming ideas for the strike lasted well into the evening, and soon enough, Varian’s eyelids began to grow heavy and he was having more and more trouble suppressing his yawns. 

“I’m gonna turn in,” he said to Andrew, who was in deep conversation with Juniper over the pros and cons of raiding the armory before targeting the Royals. Varian made his way down the narrow hallway to his room, scooping up Ruddiger in his arms as he pushed open the door.

“Well, here we are!” Varian said brightly, setting Ruddiger down on his cot. “It’s, uh… it’s not much, but it’s better than my old prison cell, believe me.”

A cool breeze blew through the cracked-open window as Varian rummaged through the box tucked beneath his cot, pulling out his old apron he’d salvaged during the escape. In hindsight, it wasn’t as important as he’d thought at the time; he’d hardly looked at it since receiving his newer, nicer clothing. It was old and scuffed, stained from years of working with volatile chemicals that would only blow up in his face, but it would do for his current purposes, at least until he found something better.

In minutes, Varian had fashioned a makeshift bed out of the apron at the foot of his cot. “It’s all yours, buddy,” he said kindly, patting the fabric. “Just how you like it.”

Ruddiger sniffed at the bed for a moment, but rather than curling up in the apron’s folds, he pushed it away– no, he was pushing it towards Varian.

“What’s wrong?” Varian asked, furrowing his brow. “Ruddiger, what are you doing?”

Ruddiger didn’t respond, grabbing the apron bed in his mouth and dragging it onto Varian’s lap. 

“You… want me to put it on?” Varian asked with no small amount of uncertainty. Ruddiger nodded, pulling at Varian’s coat sleeve in an attempt to pull it off his shoulders. Varian frowned, pushing away the raccoon’s paw. “Ruddiger, stop it. Why are you being so weird?”

Ruddiger chittered in distaste, scratching at the coat with a sour expression. Varian grimaced.

“Quit it, Ruddiger,” he said, beginning to feel a bit annoyed. “I’m not going back to those old rags. And besides, this was a gift from my friends! Why don’t you like it?”

Ruddiger didn’t answer; for some reason, this lit a spark in Varian that only doubled his irritation. 

“Y’know, you could at least  _ try _ to be happy for me,” said Varian, crossing his arms. “At least I’m not  _ in jail  _ anymore. What’s your deal, anyway?” he said, his tone gaining a sharper edge. “What, are you jealous or something? I’m allowed to have  _ friends, _ Ruddiger.”

The raccoon shook his head in frustration, glowering at Varian’s choice of words. This did not go unnoticed.

“Yeah, they’re my friends! What about that is so hard to believe?” Varian demanded, feeling his fingers curl into fists. “And they could be your friends too, if you’d quit  _ biting _ them long enough to get to know them.”

Ruddiger gave Varian a discerning look, pointing to one of the grenades strapped to Varian’s belt. Varian only scoffed.

“Yeah, I’m still a fugitive, believe it or not,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But I’d rather be  _ on the run _ from the law than  _ in custody _ of the law. This is just me taking necessary precautions. It’s… it’s not a big deal.”

Ruddiger didn’t seem convinced. “It’s  _ not!” _ Varian insisted, his voice cracking against his will. “Look, would you give me a break? Things aren’t like the way they used to be. I’m a  _ wanted criminal, _ Ruddiger!” 

The words felt like shards of glass as they escaped his throat; he couldn’t deny that the thought hadn’t been haunting him since the jailbreak, but to say it out loud… his situation suddenly seemed a lot more  _ real. _

Varian swallowed, feeling the prick of sharp tears at the corners of his vision. He fought them back, his lip curling into a fierce grimace. “You...I haven’t felt  _ happy  _ since Dad got caught in the amber,” he choked out, fists trembling. “ _ These people _ make me happy! They’ve done so much for me, and without them, I’d still be stuck in the dungeons. Is that what you want?  _ Is it?” _

Ruddiger had shrunk back, but Varian was too wound up to stop. “We can’t go back to the way things were. Not until I make good on my promise and bring this kingdom to its  _ knees.” _

Varian stood up suddenly, glaring down at the raccoon with furious desperation. “I’m doing the best I can, Ruddiger! Can’t you see that?”

Ruddiger looked back up at him, his glossy black eyes meeting Varian’s blue. He took a step forward, hesitantly lifting a paw to give another tug at Varian’s coat.

Inside Varian, he felt something snap.

“What. Is. Your.  _ Problem?” _ Varian hissed, shaking the animal off of him. “I  _ said no! _ I’m not putting on that stupid apron, and I’m  _ not _ taking orders from a  _ raccoon,” _ he spat, pursing his lips. “I am a  _ Seperatist of Saporia, _ Ruddiger. This is my life now, and if you don’t like it, you… you can leave.”

Varian folded his arms in front of his chest, turning away from Ruddiger as he felt his ears burn with anger; of course.  _ Of course, _ the minute he found something good, there’d be someone to come along and try to talk him out of it. 

Well, not today. Varian had given Andrew his word that Corona was going down, and he was not going to break that promise. Ruddiger would understand.

Varian sighed; he hated getting upset with his friend. But this would all blow over… these things always did.

If he had bothered to turn back around at that moment, Varian might’ve noticed the empty space where Ruddiger had sat beside his crumpled-up apron, or the breeze blowing through the open window.

*******

Even before Varian had discovered his love of alchemy, trouble had been something of a constant in his life. He had thought by now that he would’ve gotten used to the relentless stream of chaos that defined his existence, but life seemed to enjoy throwing him curveballs.

After the initial panic and realization, the last few days had been spent walking through the woods in quiet contemplation, and almost against his will, Varian had found himself reminiscing about things he hadn’t thought about in years… things he hadn't wanted to think about.

When he wasn’t pushing away the nightmarish memories of his father trapped within the amber, he thought back on the time before then, when things were simpler, when he didn’t destroy everything he touched.

He was still attending the village school when he had first discovered his love of alchemy; even then, he was leagues ahead of his classmates, often finishing his assignments before the lesson was even halfway through. In all truthfulness, Varian didn’t remember much of this section of his life; perhaps it had something to do him being so young, but what Varian did remember was spending hours upon hours doodling on spare parchment or staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes until the lesson was over and he could go home.

In these times of boredom, Varian had found himself itching to do something productive; he wanted to  _ think, _ to find a challenge to work through that would take him longer than two minutes to complete.

Science still felt shiny and new back then, a glimmering beacon of hope and potential. The more he learned, the more he yearned to use this knowledge to help classmates and neighbors. More often than not, though, this would only get him in trouble, but his curiosity and desire to share the wonders of alchemy never failed to win out over what Dad used to call “simple common sense”.

Varian didn’t take much seriously back then. He regretted that now.

These impulsive whims to do a little good had reached a turning point when Varian was about eight or nine, when, in an attempt to repair the loose clapper on the schoolbell, he accidentally detached it from its hinges and sent it crashing through the roof and into the classroom below. Thankfully no one was hurt, but the classroom was all but destroyed, and Varian had no way of fixing it.

The schoolmaster was a tall, imposing man, and Varian could recall his sharply angled features as clearly as if he had seen the man yesterday. Varian’s natural academic prowess and tendency to disrupt class only ever seemed to annoy him; this final act of destruction seemed to be the last straw.

_ “Do you understand?” _ he had told Varian that day, looming over the child like a vulture.  _ “Have I made myself  _ ** _perfectly _ ** _ clear? I’ve made up my mind about you, boy, and it’s time you got it through your head,” _ The schoolmaster leaned in, jabbing at Varian’s small, quivering chest.  _ “You. Are. _ ** _ Bad._ ** _ ” _

_ ...bad? _

_ I don’t think I’m bad. _

Varian sat down on a rock, staring at the swishing blades of grass; everything he did was with good intentions– he never meant to hurt anyone. All he ever wanted to do was help people. That wasn’t bad.

The silence of the forest was no longer peaceful, but deafening… every snap of a twig every rustle in the leaves made Varian jump, wondering desperately if Ruddiger had come back. And every time, the knot of regret inside him swelled; if he had only let go of his pride for just a few minutes, if only he hadn’t gotten so  _ angry… _ but Ruddiger hadn’t left because of that. Varian wasn’t  _ that _ naive.

As good as his intentions were, Varian  _ had _ hurt people. He had  _ seen _ the fear in that guard’s eyes the night of their escape, he’d heard the screams and cries of the people he’d terrorized and ignored them–  _ reveled _ in them, even.

“I’m not a bad person,” he muttered to himself, covering his face with his bandana and squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m not. I’m  _ not.” _

The words felt like lies as they dropped from his mouth; he knew better than anyone that there was a dark, ugly void inside him that still thirsted for revenge, that delighted in putting others through the same agony he’d been feeling for so long…

Varian didn’t like that part of himself. 

He didn’t  _ want _ to be like that anymore… 

Varian buried his face in his hands, glad that there was no one around to see the tears drip down his cheeks. He wanted Ruddiger. He wanted  _ Dad. _

_ ... _

_ But Dad’s gone. _

Varian gritted his teeth, shoving the thought aside; no. Varian could still save him. He just… he just had to find the right formula, something to cut through the amber–

_ Not even Rapunzel could do that. _

His breath caught in his throat and he bit down on his lip, his vision blurred with salty tears. Rapunzel… she just wasn’t trying hard enough. She was holding back. Varian knew the legends: the power of the sundrop was enough to save the queen, to bring Eugene back to life. And whatever power she held with the black rocks could only add to her strength. Why _ couldn’t _ she bring back his dad? What had he done to deserve being imprisoned in amber till the end of time?

…nothing.

Dad had done nothing to deserve that.

_ He only claimed the fate that was meant for you. _

_ It should’ve been you. _

Varian’s chest shook from crying and his gloved hand did nothing to slow the surge of fresh tears cascading down his face; it should’ve been him.  _ It should’ve been him. _

“...it should’ve been me,” he whispered between sobs. The admission was so quiet he was hardly able to hear himself, but the words cut into him as sharply as if he had screamed them. Dad was gone because of him, because he didn’t listen. He  _ never  _ listened– and Dad had paid the price.

_ Maybe I am a bad person. _

*******

“So we split up into small teams and take down the guards at their posts, which are stationed here, here and here.”

Andrew smirked as he peered over the maps of the capital and the castle floor plan laid out over the kitchen table, small sewing pins stuck in the papers to mark their targets.

(There were a  _ lot _ of targets, Varian noticed.)

With the materials Kai and Juniper had been able to bring back from their most recent trip to Vardaros, the strike was going to go off without a hitch. They had managed to acquire chemicals both common and ones that you could only purchase from the black market, amassing an alchemical arsenal that rivaled Varian’s lab in Old Corona. The map had places marked where they planned to station nitroglycerin, cherry bombs, tear gas, and other devices designed to take out any guards or civilians who dared to stand in their way.

Varian swallowed; the sheer level of carnage those weapons could unleash… the thought alone made him feel sick.

“–and after we’ve cleared the second level, we’ve move on to the throne room. Once the guards are taken out, me and Kai will go for the King and Queen.” Andrew smirked. “We’ll have their heads mounted on the palace gates by daybreak.”

Varian bit down on his lower lip, but said nothing, staring down at his boots and trying vainly to mask the uneasiness he felt in his gut. 

“–any guards who aren’t already dead, we’ll give them the option of pledging themselves to Saporia–”

_ People are going to die. _

“–but if they refuse, well then, we’ve got that stash of ammonia bombs for a reason–”

_ People are going to die because of  _ ** _you._ **

“–what was that you said? ‘All we have to do is lock them in a closet and set off the gas, they’ll be dead within the hour’–”

“No.”

Andrew glanced up, an eyebrow raised in surprise. Varian realized at that moment he had spoken aloud.

“ _ ‘No’? _ ” Andrew asked, incredulous. “What, will it take longer than that?”

Varian stood frozen for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that’s– you’re right about the ammonia thing, it’s just…” Varian swallowed, steeling his jaw. “D-don’t you think all this is a bit… excessive?”

Immediately, Varian knew he had said something wrong; Andrew’s expression remained calm as ever, but a storm was brewing behind his eyes. Varian instinctively took a step back, feeling his shoulders tense as Andrew’s face contorted in a sneer.

Varian shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just… a  _ lot  _ of people are going to… t-to get hurt. Y’know?”

“Varian, I’m surprised at you,” Andrew said evenly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “All I’m doing is taking every precaution to prevent a civilian uprising. What, is that too ‘excessive’ for you?” Andrew took a step forward, making Varian stumble back.

“I–I… no, I–”

“You know better than anyone that Frederic’s got this kingdom brainwashed into blind loyalty to the crown. If we don’t break the people’s confidence in their precious royals, they’ll rise up against us before we have the chance to reform even  _ one  _ of their broken systems.”

“Th-that’s not what I–”

“But  _ no… _ ” Andrew snarled, looming over Varian with narrowed eyes. “That’s too  _ excessive,  _ isn’t it? Afraid of making Corona  _ hurt?  _ You’re going soft on me.”

_ “No!” _ Varian cried out, feeling a curl of panic churn inside him. “I’m not– I don’t care about Corona!”

Andrew’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Glad to hear it.” He turned back to the map, studying the outline of the plan and sticking a few more pins into the paper.

Varian stood still for a moment, then took a deep breath. “That’s… we’re just wasting so many resources on this.”

Andrew glanced upwards. “Come again?”

“Um, well…” Varian stammered. “I get the need to keep the citizens from rising up against us, but we’re throwing  _ way _ too much firepower at them when we should be keeping our focus on… on the royal guard. That’s all I meant.”

For a moment, Andrew didn’t respond, his expression completely unreadable. Varian sucked in his breath, resisting the urge to flinch away; he’d said something wrong again, hadn’t he? This was such a  _ mistake, _ why did he have to open his mouth–

Suddenly, Andrew’s hand was on his shoulder and Varian met his eye, finding a smile on Andrew’s face. 

“Always the strategist, aren’t you kid?” he said with a chuckle, giving Varian a playful nudge. “You’re right, we shouldn’t let ourselves get sidetracked. We can probably reposition those flash grenades in the main hall instead of at the front gate… and those cherry bombs can go at the entrance of the armory…”

Andrew continued on, and after a minute or two, Varian stopped listening. He hated that map– he hated this whole battle plan. This was  _ wrong, _ he knew it. 

He had always known it.

Varian shook aside the thought; it didn’t matter. Varian had made a promise to the Saporians. He was one of them now, and like Andrew had told him, membership was a lifetime commitment. There was no going back, and there certainly wouldn’t be any forgiveness– not from the royals, not from his dad, not  _ anybody. _ History would remember him for the monster that he was; Varian supposed he deserved that.

He only wished he could forget it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's where we'll leave things for now. Varian is feeling properly remorseful, and let's say that it's not too long after this that he gets the idea to wipe the memory of Corona. He for sure knows he's at fault, and there's nothing he'd like better than to forget about it.
> 
> I'm not sure if I'm going to be writing much more fic after this (mainly just because of how much it drains me) but if I do, it'll probably be one-shots that don't drag out for months on end. Thank you all so much for sticking with me through this- it's been nearly six months since I started this fic, and now it's FINALLY DONE. You patience and support means the world to me, and I can't thank you all enough.
> 
> If you want to continue to follow my work or just come say hi, I'm over on Instagram @ AJ_illustrated and Tumblr @ AJ-illustrated. See y'all later!
> 
> (Kudos are nice, but comments are lovely! Tell me below what you think!)


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